Through battle
by Sketchevrywir
Summary: One-shot. If BOFTA went a little different. Implied Fili/Kili. Thorinduil. Contains major spoilers for both the book and movie.


**WARNING: The following fic contains _major spoilers for both the movie and the book_. ****The profile picture can be found at my Deviantart account, Sketchevrywir. **

**A fic I wrote as a result of a comment on Instagram. I just have a lot of feelings for Thorinduil and after the movie it kinda seemed like Fili was thrown away. Like nobody cared for him. Anyways, I would greatly appreciate if you happen to come across a mistake, whether it be in the grammar, spelling, plot, the writing itself or the Tolkien-facts, notice me of it. That's all. Enjoy! **

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><p>Kili watched. Watched how Azog held a sword to his brother's throat and held him at arms length. The brown haired dwarf watched how his brother struggled to look at him, panic-stricken. Tears were running down from Fili's face. "Kili, run!"<p>

But Kili would not run, would he? He did promise his brother to stay with him, even at the worst of times. And Fili had promised him the same years ago.

"Fili!" There was no way Kili could contain his own screams for his beloved brother.

"This one... Dies first." Azog grinned, pressing the blade into Fili's neck, who responded by desperately trying to kick the orc into his midriff and shoving at his arms with all his strength. Kili, seeing the pointlessness of his brother's struggle, ran forward to the tower where the defiler stood. He would not see his brother die on Ravenhill. In the distance he hear Thorin yell after him. Paying his uncle's shouts no heed, he ran further, slightly limping.

"Take me! Take me!"

He yelled, looking up at Azog's slightly surprised face. Fili instead had a horrid expression carved on his face, now furiously yelling at Kili. The one handed orc smiled with a wicked grin, thrusting the furiously-struggling Fili forwards.

"You would rather have your own death before you would see _this one_ here die?"

Kili stopped in his tracks, panting heavily, tears in his eyes as he defiantly looked the pale orc in his eyes.

"Yes." His voice sounded unwavering to anyone who could have heard it. Boldly he took a step forward, as if to prove to the orc he wasn't afraid. Fili shouted.

Azog slumped slightly, seemingly unsure whether he should take the offer or not. Kili could almost hear Fili's tension-filled breath.

"Then you will watch him die first."Azog decided, thrusting his arm-blade through Fili's body roughly. Fili cried out in pain, his blood falling down to where Kili stood.

Kili, who yelled loudly for his big brother. Futile screaming. Not even a second later he watched Azog slice Fili's throat, watched how Fili's body was dropped to the ground and how Azog held the head by the blond hair, braids still in it. The first tears slipped down Kili's face as he caught Fili's head with no effort as it was thrown to him.

"No..." He whispered hoarsely. He pressed his brother's forehead to his own, falling to his knees with tears of grief streaming down his face.

"This cannot be, this cannot be- my big brother..." A sob left his throat and he failed to even complete what he was trying to say.

His big brother was dead.

And Kili could never live with that, no, he gave his word and so did Fili. To never leave each other's side. To protect each other and look after each other. Kili stared at the guard-post. Azog had gone. Soon the orcs would come streaming down the tower.

But Kili had made his decision already, he would die beside his brother. Fighting, if necessary.

The blood, still dripping from Fili's lifeless head splattered on the ice below him. Kili did not care, he didn't even look at it as he rose slowly. With all effort he could muster he walked towards his brother's lifeless form and knelt beside it. He smiled weakly, ignoring the pain he felt as he carefully laid Fili's head where it belonged on his body. If one did not count the blood, the dirt and any other damage from the battle it would almost seem Fili was caressing Fili as a lover would, intimate and slow. But there was a battle and there was damage. So much damage that Kili nearly couldn't stand looking at his brother's ruined body.

But Kili did stare, into lifeless eyes, leaning over Fili's body. There he collapsed, the orc sword piercing him becoming him slowly fatal.

Fili had yelled so much when he noticed it and had in his rage sprinted upwards to Azog. Revenge, he had shouted in dwarf-tongue. But he failed to deliver it, Azog overpowering him and laughing as he watched Kili limp towards both of them. And in the end, Kili failed to take revenge for his brother too, dying on top of him. The only thing he had left now was the promise to his brother.

"Well, at least I never left your side." He whispered softly.

As he stared into the distance he could see Tauriel sprinting towards him, tears in her beautiful eyes. Kili couldn't stand it. He closed his eyes, hearing Tauriel's wretched screaming for him.

Far in the distance he could hear Thorin approach rapidly, roaring with anger. In all the years he spent alongside Fili he would never forget how his uncles' rough voice sounded. Or what the lonely mountain looked like. Or how Tauriels' hair was braided. But what he endeared most of all, the thing he never forget was how Fili had looked at him in the moment of death. Reassuring. Reassuring that it would all be okay. And it would be, if he could see his brother again. Kili breathed his last breath, in knowledge that soon everything would be okay.

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><p>Thranduil stared. Not with longing, nor with arrogance, which he mostly did when he was staring. Thranduil stared in horror. Thorin had watched all, had seen how Fili and Kili both died in each others'arms. Thorin would do anything for <em>them<em>. And both now dead was the worst thing which could ever have happened to Thorin.

The blond elf had then seen how his lover, hoarsely yelling had advanced at the pale orc, rage for his dead nephews in his eyes. And he had watched the orc go down. Falling through the ice, pierced by Thorin's sword and presumably dead. But he was not and only in horror could the elvenking watch how the orc in his dying breath managed to fatally wound Thorin. And now he was dead.

All of Middle-earth could go to waste in less than a moment and Thranduil would not care, for the man he loved most was gone. Thorin Oakenshield. The only dwarf that had ever fascinated him.

From far away he watched the halfling silently cry for his lost comrade. But not a single tear would slip down his own face. Thranduil elvenking could not show weakness in front of Legolas, his son.

"Dad, are you okay?" Thinking of his son, Legolas' worried face appeared in his view. The king of Mirkwood waved him away with a slight movement of his hand. His own well-being should be not his concern now.

Legolas had long left before even Bilbo had decided to move away from Thorin's body. Thranduil slowly stepped on the ice, walking towards the lifeless dwarf, although his gait bore none of the usual grace he would have.

Instead Thranduil was hasting himself quickly, scurrying towards Thorin and nearly slipping on the smooth surface. In the end, he dropped himself to his knees in front of his lover's body, blond hair in front of his face, cradling Thorin's chest and crying without restraint.

"You were a fool, to run off in battle. You should have stayed in that mountain. Death wouldn't have come fast so fast for you..." Ragged sobs left him.

"Why, why did you leave?"

All Thranduil could do was whisper in grief, never having understood the concept of death well, to lose someone forever. And never would his grief for the loss of Thorin Oakenshield leave him.

If Thranduil could, he would have traded all the gems he could ever possess to have the person he loved above all back. But he couldn't and he begged. Begged for Thorin to come back and be the dwarf he knew once more. Realizing none of it would happen, he wept in despair. All the rest of his life he would live without Thorin and so he kept holding on to his lifeless body.

It was only when Legolas called to him that Thranduil realized he was not alone anymore. At first he refused to leave Thorin's body, but Legolas said something that had him changing his mind. It was the least he could offer his now dead lover.

"Dad, they are going to bury him. Soon others will come. Let Thorin have back the mountain he so craved."

And Thranduil didn't understood. But now he does. Standing before the middle of the three altars where the line of Durin lies he breathes in heavily. He stepped forward, passing the altar where Kili laid, Tauriel still weeping at his side. Thranduil slightly regretted his behavior towards her. Fixing his eyes on the last altar, he could see Bilbo standing by Fili's altar, fixing one of the many braids the blond dwarf bore. and finally, he laid his eyes upon Thorin's altar. Dressed in leather, satin, dwarven-armour and the richest of jewels was the king under mountain. The Arkenstone shone brightly from where they laid it into his hands, which were both folded neatly over his chest.

As three entire armies watched, he laid down the elven-crafted sword, now cleaned from blood, Orcrist on Thorin's chest. Placing the hilt carefully in Thorin's still empty hand, the elvenking silently studies Thorin's bearded face. He bears a peaceful expression. Thranduil smiles with sadness and straightens his back.

Staring at the rest of the filled hall, he takes a step back, his hand brushing unconsciously through Thorin's hair. He takes one more look at the dwarf's face before he bends over to deliver a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Farewell, king under the mountain, my lover and friend." His murmurs are unheard by anyone, before he pulls himself back up.

Stepping further back, takes his place next to his son and together they await for the ceremony to end.


End file.
